Stranger Unseen
by SodaWizard
Summary: Based off of the awful-au "I've been blind for my whole life and I came to this bar with my friends and while they were distracted you came up to me and said 'do you have any idea how attractive you are' and I said 'no' because like seriously do you not see my white cane?" Arthur and his friend get interrupted when a stranger hits on him and misses a rather obvious attribute.


"...And they were roommates! Can you believe that sort of deception? She turned right back around to my co-worker-I've told you about Linda, haven't I?-and said-"

"'Wow, she looks fat in that dress'," Arthur finished, giving his companion an unimpressed gaze. "You've told me this story before, Francis. And she says that about everybody! You shouldn't be too surprised."

Francis breathed out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I know! She's such a heartless creature. I swear, she gets worse every day. Can you believe it? Next thing you know, she'll be targeting me!"

Arthur snorted and leaned back in his spot. "How do you know she hasn't been already? I would," he teased, quirking an eyebrow.

Francis gasped. "Why, if you weren't blind I'd hit you right now! She'd never! I'm too kind for her to say such horrid things about me," he justified, sticking his nose in the air.

"Being blind won't stop _me_ from hitting you!" Arthur countered, kicking out his leg and grinning smugly when he was awarded with a sharp thump.

" _That_ was the table leg, my dear friend. You have no aim." Francis stated pointedly, glancing under the table to see how close his shin was from being assaulted by Arthur's unforgiving foot.

"Stop that! I can practically hear you smiling." Arthur wrinkled his nose in distaste, unable to see Francis' smug smile falling, but enjoying the thought of it nonetheless.

The two had dedicated every other Friday night to drinks. Every time, Francis had a "new" gossip story to tell, and every time, Arthur was the only person that really cared to listen to the full recount.

The pair had been friends since their sophomore year of high school and despite their different schedules and different lives, they still managed to keep that sweet bantering that had been with them ever since the day they had met.

Arthur stopped his train of thought as the sound of steps deftly made their way towards their table, but reverted back to Francis' yammering once he recognized the sound of sloshing liquid and clinking glasses. Finally, their drinks. And it sounded like the poor waiter had quite the shaky hand. Arthur listened as Francis swiped one of the drinks off of the table and another one was set down in front of him, his hand quickly searching for his glass and bringing it to his lips. Perfect, a Coke and rum. With almost a little more rum than Coke.

"How was your date last weekend, Arthur?"

Arthur immediately set his glass back down. "Are you kidding me, Francis? Setting the blind man up on a blind date. Really original. It was awful."

"Ah, I thought as much," Francis grimaced, taking a drink of his mojito. "He was cute though, no? From what you could tell, of course. Very muscular. And I know how you like muscles! Something nice to hold at night."

"Ha-ha, very funny. He was all brawn and no brains! It was like talking to a brick wall, except when the idea of sports came underway. I couldn't leave the restaurant faster. I can't believe you."

Francis snorted and waved a hand in dismissal, sighing. "I'm sorry, Grinch. It's about time you get back out on the market, Arthur. I think the lack of romance is turning your heart to stone."

"I'm sorry that I can't be married to my high school sweetheart like you, Francis. Because, as you know, I didn't date in high school. Why don't you take your mojito and shove it up your ass? And, while you're at it, put your wedding ring up there too. Oh my god, is that why we're at a gay bar?"

Arthur listened to another cascade of approaching footsteps through Francis' giggling laugh, silently praying that it was the waiter with another rum and Coke. There was a low whistle followed by a thump against their table. Arthur assumed whomever walked up placed their hand against the wood. Definitely not the waiter.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The voice was sultry, low, and American. More Southern, he assumed. Francis was getting hit on for what seemed like the fifteenth time this night. Arthur sipped on his rum and Coke as he turned a selective ear towards the conversation, wondering how Francis would turn down this suitor. What a shame, he had a pretty voice.

Arthur heard the low hum of Francis' voice as he calculated his response, imagining the obnoxious man twirling a lock of hair from beneath his fingertips as he took in the sight of stranger standing beside him. Francis would relay their appearance after he turned them down and they walked away, recounting how hot (or not) they were once they were out of earshot. Even if they were a looker, Francis was humbly devoted to his wife.

And damn, was the diamond on his wedding ring huge. Arthur had ran his fingertips over it a few times, and couldn't imagine how someone could miss it.

"I'm sorry, I'm married," Francis had sighed, probably biting his lower lip and faking a pout. "'A shame, you're a cute one."

"Oh! No. No, I'm sorry, dude. Not you. _You_." Arthur was expecting some quick apology or flirt continuation from the American, but that pointed word couldn't be directed at anyone else but himself. Arthur nearly spit out his drink.

"Me?" Arthur sputtered, grazing his fingertips across the table in search of a napkin to dab his mouth with, feeling Francis place one into his hand before he raised it to his lips.

"Yeah you, you cutie! Do you have any idea how attractive you are?" the American exclaimed, and Arthur could practically hear him smiling. He debated whether or not he actually liked Southern accents anymore.

"No," the Brit replied blandly, his eyebrows furrowed in pure perplexion behind his sunglasses. Arthur was trying to poke fun at the situation in hopes that it would lighten the mood because really, he couldn't believe some stranger with a sexy voice would ask to buy him a drink. Francis would probably tell him he was ugly, once he left.

The stranger had paused, obviously taken aback by the response. "What? C'mon," he laughed, "how can 'ya walk past a mirror and not see that? Even a blind man would be able to tell you're _gorgeous_! Fate must be on my side, because I ain't seein' a ring on your finger like this guy." Arthur assumed he gestured to Francis.

..This guy could see he wasn't wearing a ring, but couldn't see the white cane politely rested against his seat? What a dumbass.

"Um, no? When I walk past a mirror I don't see anything because I, oh, wow, coincidentally cannot see," Arthur snorted with seething sarcasm, reaching for his glass again.

Arthur was surprised that Francis didn't give him an "aww, that was mean!" after he said it, though he assumed the other male was too absorbed in sucking up the American's expression so he could relay how mortified and funny he looked once they were alone again.

He heard the American gasp and stammer, figuring that he finally caught sight of his solid white cane and sunglasses while joining his thoughts together. "What? Ohmygod, I'm so sorry, oh my g- I didn't know, I swear!"

The two seated friends both laughed at the stranger's antics, Arthur snorting behind his drink as Francis caught his breath.

"Oh come on, Arthur. You ought to be used to people being dense by now. Cut the guy some slack, he's actually quite the looker. Plenty of muscle," Francis commented with a teasing tone, raising his eyebrows pointedly at the American. "Is that a Stanford university sweater I'm seeing? Wow. He's got brains too, my friend," Francis added, ignoring the stranger's panicked expression as he lightly nudged Arthur's foot with his own under the table.

"I-I, I am so sorry, dude! I didn't mean it like that at all, I swear! I just saw you from across the bar and I thought you were really cute and I didn't even realize that- Fuck, this was bad. Not how I wanted this to go. You're still hella cute, but I don't blame you for turning down the offer now 'cause I can't watch my mouth. Shit, uhm, I'll just stop talkin' now-"

"I.. Suppose you could make it up to me by buying me a drink. You have a very pretty voice, is there a name to follow it?" Arthur offered, stifling his laughter from Alfred's not-so-smoothe blabbering. What did he have to lose? The man seemed genuinely sorry, and he kind of wanted to show Francis up by displaying his bachelor potential. (Ignoring the fact that this was the first time he had been hit on in, well, months).

"I- What? You're serious? You're still down for the whole drink thing? I- Alfred! My name's Alfred! I- Man. Maybe we should start this all over. I'll come back, offer you a drink, tell you how pretty you are in a not and obnoxious way, amaze you with my smooth-talkin', try 'n change that first impression, 'n maybe get a date out of 'ya, yeah?" Alfred chuckled rather nervously, running a hand through his hair as he ducked under Francis' calculating gaze.

"My name's Arthur, and I think I can see that date happening without you having to retrace your steps."


End file.
